


#47.1

by SubconPrince (Princely_Indulgences)



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, i honestly dont know what other tags to add atm but ill get them eventually, oc is literally a self insert for author, sorry blacklist fans ive only seen one episode as of writing the first chapter(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princely_Indulgences/pseuds/SubconPrince
Summary: Frederick Barnes wakes up to find he not only is alive, but in the company of someone he has never met before. Supposedly safe in their company, he may have another chance to save his son.
Relationships: Frederick Barnes/OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	#47.1

When Frederick Barnes woke up, the first thought that went through his mind was the question, “I’m still alive?”  
  
Well, that’s not quite right, but it was the first coherent one, so Barnes doesn’t consider any others that important.

The thoughts he had, if there were any at all, were as blurred as the moments of the first few times he woke up. Of course, there was pain - he had been shot, after all - along with other sensations. Heat. Not like he was being burned, but something he assumed must have been due to a fever. There were very blurred colors that had been bright; hospital lights, maybe? Then they were duller, less painful. Bland. A blurry figure seems to repeat in most of the memories. A person. Who were they?  
  
Thinking about it too much made him aware he had a headache, and could still feel what he was now certain is a fever. He shifts around in the bed he is laying in, groaning and letting out a hiss of pain. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes just yet, not wanting to aggravate the pounding sensation in his head. There is some sort of droning sound in the background. His guess is… a fan? Where was he?   
  
“Don’t try to move, you’re still healing.”   
  
Frederick grunts at the sound, slowly squinting one eye open to seek out the source of the noise. It was deeper, but feminine, and he saw something moving in the dark. Thank god the room was dark, at least. They walk by, and the sound of running water hits his ears, before the person comes walking back and sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s too dark to make their face, other than the sight of glasses catching faint light probably coming from outside.   
  
“This should help you feel a bit better.” They say, and he realizes that they are pulling an old rag off his forehead and replacing it with a fresh, cold one. It’s so… simple, but it does feel nice, and he lets out a weak sigh.   
  
He opens his mouth to try and speak, but what comes out is a painful cough. His throat was parched.   
  
“Here.” A hand helps lift his head just enough to let him safely drink from a glass. “You’ve been getting fluids through an IV.” So that explains why he wasn’t notably thirsty, or hungry, for that matter. Yet.

“What happened?” Frederick finally manages to ask.

“Infection after getting shot.” The person says. “I can tell you specifics once the last of it passes through your system.” It occurs to him that this person’s soft attention towards him is extremely bizarre, but he can’t muster up strength to get freaked out about it yet.

“Ok.” He says, allowing himself to close his eyes and relax. After some rest… he will get some answers.

* * *

The next time he wakes, Frederick notes that he feels a lot better.

Of course, he is still exhausted, and pain from his injury lingers, and he knows that moving his body is going to hurt once he tries to move. But the fever is notably gone, and the quiet sound of a keyboard clicking somewhere nearby doesn’t make his head hurt.

It takes a minute to find himself awake enough to open his eyes, and push himself up to lean against the wall behind the bed so he can properly look around. To his surprise, he seems to be in some sort of hotel room. It’s tidy, and not too big. The sight of a messed up but empty bed nearby does indicate it is meant for two people, though. Over near the kitchen area, a figure that he can see clearly now is seated at a table, invested in whatever is on their laptop. 

It must be the person who was helping him before, because the colors matched the blurred figure he can barely recall, and they had glasses on from what he could tell. Red hair was pulled back into a mess of ponytail, and they didn’t seem to be that old. Early year college student, maybe?

… But how would he have ended up with them?

They stop what they are doing to lean back and stretch, glancing behind them at Frederick. “You’re awake.” They state. Definitely the person who he had heard before. “How are you feeling?”

“...” He stares for a moment, brown eyes looking into their own blue ones. Was this real? Was this… kid taking care of him after everything that happened? And they were concerned about his health, genuinely? “Uh… I’m alright?” He shifts around a bit. “No fever.”

They nod. “I knew that much.” Getting up out of their chair, they walk over to the kitchen area and dig around in a cupboard. “How’s the pain?”

He isn’t sure which pain they are talking about, so he will assume all of it. “I’m sore all over, and I can still feel the wound. But… it’s better than it was.” As he says that, he can feel the sensation of bodily functions coming back, and he moves to get out of the bed. Standing up is a chore, after having not done so for a while, but he manages to slowly make his way to the restroom as the other person prepares some food.

A list of questions begins to form in his mind as he is waking up. What happened? Who is this stranger he is currently rooming with? Why is he here instead of in the hands of the government? Surely they’d want him back if he is alive. What about his son? And the cure he had on hand that he never got to use? Did the government take it?

Those and more threaten to whirl around his head and overwhelm him, but he forces himself to calm down, splashing his face with cold water after washing his hands. He looks himself over in the mirror. He is in different clothes. Looser, looking far more casual than he is used to. Almost like he isn’t some sort of criminal who went around killing people. His hair is so messy that he can’t help but wet his hands and run his fingers through it to try and make it not stand up so much. Probably can manage better after a shower, but his body isn’t ready to stand much longer without a break, and he can feel his stomach rumbling in hunger.

So he leaves the bathroom, spelling the smell of cheap toaster waffles. It isn’t really the ideal meal after waking up proper from being shot, but he isn’t going to complain. He silently settles himself across the table from the stranger, who is already digging into their own waffles like this is the most normal thing in the world. The amount of syrup they have used is almost nauseating, and he barely pours any on his own before taking a cautious bite. Tastes… like a waffle. Soft, like it was microwaved instead of toasted. If there is any sort of poison or drug, it isn’t something he can taste or feel right away. Which shouldn’t surprise him; there is no reason to kill him after all that effort to make sure he stayed alive in the first place.

“Sorry if you don’t like them microwaved.” The other says. “I haven’t made them in a toaster before.”  
  
Frederick pauses his actions, staring at them. “You’ve never toasted toaster waffles?”

“Nope.”

“Hm.” He decides that is not something he should focus on too much, and goes back to eating. At the very least, the fact that they are acting so calm is making it easier for him to sort through his thoughts of what happened. He can feel them looking at him, but they never ask him anything. Kind enough to let him sort through this, then. 

He was alive. That much was obvious. He had gotten shot, and it should have killed him, but it didn’t. At some point after, something had gotten into the system. Probably while he was being moved. Whatever it was ultimately passed with some IV fluids and supervision. His wounds had been taken care of, the slight stinging sensation making him aware that they were stitched up. Had this all been done by the kid across from him?

Speaking of kids, was Ethan okay? The stress of everything would be debilitating for anyone, especially someone already so…

“You are going to break your fork if you don’t relax.” The stranger’s voice cuts through his line of thought, bringing him back to reality. “The plastic is pretty weak.”

Frederick has to let the words sink in before he relaxes, and decides to just put the fork down, appetite pushing back hunger. 

“If you are worried about your son, he’s alright. They had to take him to the hospital, but he made a quick recovery.”

“The cure.”

“They didn’t give it to him, no. Anything you left behind at the scene was collected to be researched.”

“...” Frederick sighs. He isn’t surprised; of course that’s that they did. He went through all of that for Ethan, and the bastards couldn’t even be damned to give the antidote to him! Not when they could use it for their own gain. Engineer the antidote and new strains that it wouldn’t work against. And in a matter of time he’d be forgotten. Making everything he had done worthless.

“I’m sorry. I would have asked for the sample, but there wasn’t anything I had that they would give it up for. Convincing them to let you come with me was hard enough. They got a lot of work I’d rather they hadn’t.” The stranger has finished their waffles, saying this as they clear their plate. 

Frederick turns around in his seat to watch them. “What kind of work?”

“A mixed bag. Mostly things related to some questionable medical stuff.” 

“That’s vague.”

“That’s the point.” They say, washing their hands and face. “I’ll tell you more about it in time, but right now the less you know, the better. They’ll be keeping their eyes on us for a while.”

Frederick grunts. “Alright. What’s your name?”

“Prince.” They glance at him, noting his unamused look. “That’s the name I’ve gone by for years. I prefer it over my real name. If there is a name you prefer other than Frederick, feel free to let me know. Eventually you will have to go by a new one, anyways.”

Well, they get to the point. “Frederick is fine.” He says. He sorts the information away in his mind: a new name. So they traded him over to Prince for some secret information he isn’t privy to, and he will have the opportunity to back out in public, possibly. There is much more than aren’t telling him, but, apparently, will do so once the government isn’t watching with as much scrutiny. There is no telling how much is true, but for the moment, he doesn’t have much choice but to have some room for belief. 

“Why did you… trade for me?”

“Because you’re interesting.” They lean against the sink, looking at him. It really seems like they’re being honest with him. It’s a bit scary, almost. “I sympathize with you. And your work in a rare disease definitely hit my radar.”

“Enough to turn over your work?”

They fidget with their hands, glancing to the side. “Yeah. It was a spur of the moment decision, considering you were on your deathbed. Not my brightest moment, admittedly, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.” They look back at him, the slightest hint of what he assumed was shame on their face. “I also haven’t had the chance to work with anyone quite on your level. So…”

“Ah.” So they did have something to gain. “You think I’m going to work with you?”

“I was hoping so, yeah.” They puff up their cheeks and lout out a puff of air. “But, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you. I just figured that we could both benefit from it. If not, once I get the okay to let you out and about on your own, I’ll leave you alone. I prefer people who work with me to do so willingly.”

“That sounds like you do things that most aren’t willing to do.”

“Well, yeah, once they realize that it isn’t as safe as they think it will be…” They trail off. “You wouldn’t be in that position, though. You’d be working with me as an equal.”

Frederick is watching them. Their reactions seem genuine, not practiced, but he didn’t know nearly enough to be sure of it. He knew of plenty of cases where young children learned how to manipulate others. There is no reason to assume that Prince wasn’t skilled in doing the same.

“I’ll… think about it.” Frederick says. “When I know more. Not right now, though. Right now I just want to… take everything in. Where are we?”

“New York.”

“The television gets the news, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, all the local channels. I can also look things up for you on my laptop if you need.” They pause. “No, you can’t use it. It’s my personal one. But I can get one for you.”

Frederick shakes his head. “I’m not even worried about that right now.”

“Right, of course.” Prince nods. “I don’t have anything planned for the moment, the room is paid for another week, so uh…” They shrug. “I guess I’ll let you take the tv, since it sounds like that’s your plan. I won’t bug you.”

Hard to not be bugged by someone when you are stuck in a small room with them, especially when it is becoming clearer that this person would really, really like to bug you. But it seems like they mean it. “Thanks.” He says, going to go and sit down on the bed. 

It hits him as he sits down that it stinks around him. He scrunches his face up, sniffing his blankets, and then himself.

Uck. Nevermind. First thing he needs to do is shower.

“Where are my clothes?” He asks.

“There is a bag in the corner by your bed. Has clean clothes that are in your size. They aren’t anything fancy.” Prince says, cleaning up Frederick’s forgotten plate. 

Frederick looks and sure enough, there they are. All similarly loose and casual like his current clothes, and pretty bland. Oh well, they’ll work for the time being. “Thanks.” He calls back, before stepping back into the restroom. Prince nods in acknowledgement, and works on replacing his sheets while he gets clean.


End file.
